Believe it or not, I lived in Gozo for 18 years and did all my schooling there so, in theory, I should be happy to go back to it right? In a way, I need to write this down to rid of some of the pain in my chest even if risking to sound like a monster. The relationship between my dad and I was never great for reasons that I don’t feel comfortable exploring just yet. My aunt was my escape in many ways when things in my life went south.
She was the only reason I would beg my mum to go back to Gozo every Saturday (from Monday to Friday I would go to school and did all the things that kids my age did, but every Friday after school my mum would pick me up, and we would catch a half an hour trip by ferry to Malta where we would stay overnight since the next day at 6 am I would have physical therapy, and although painful I felt free when I lived in Malta simply because people would stare less at me like they just saw some kind of monster.
After we go back to Gozo, my mum used to take me to my aunt where I would spend the rest of my weekend or holidays, which was heaven. I think the reason behind the strong bond between my aunt and me is our love for animals. The greatest gift that she gave me was teaching me not to let my disability define me.
Sadly, when I was about 11, my aunt lost her battle with cancer at the age of 55, and that changed my world forever. At times I do wonder about what she would think of the man I’m today. Since she didn’t know, I’m trans.